Cheeky Sweetie

I started blogging as a way to get it out. You know, it. Not like the eBay it. MY it. All those things I want to share…be it personal experiences, or information I have found useful, or humor that has helped me get through a tough day, or things that make me mad, or…well, anything I feel I have to get out of my brain and into another form that I can share, reflect on, and hopefully laugh at one day, (like the time I tripped and fell on the quarterback’s lunch table in high school). I have gotten a lot more raw and real than I ever expected. I talked about the struggle with my teenage son. I spoke of the impact that sexual victimization has had on me. I shared information that has gotten me through layoffs and other financial catastrophes. I bemoaned intimacy issues in my relationship, and how alone I feel sometimes. I reached out to other people I have “met” online that have become my friends, every bit as real as my RL friends. I have laughed at odd little corners of the web I have stumbled across. And I have somehow become a part of human communication that transcends geographical limitations, socio-economic factors, gender roles, spiritual identities, and any other barrier I can possibly think of.

But the most important thing is not what I have done. It’s what you, my readers, have done for me. More than likely without meaning to, because I know I am just a small blip on the radar, you have made me feel like I belong to something; that I am okay, just the way I am. I always felt awkward. Seriously, my entire life. I can’t remember a time when I felt like I belonged. There was always *some reason* that I wasn’t like the others, and for some reason, that meant I wasn’t as good as the others.

As an example of how I felt, just…wrong, when my bio-dad stopped making an effort to be in touch with me, I was about 7 years old. I remember thinking if I was just prettier, or thinner, or smarter, or better behaved, he would love me. My family that I lived with did love me, but I just felt like I didn’t fit in. I was the only Hispanic one; I was 9-18 years younger than my siblings; I questioned the Bible; I didn’t think homosexuality was a sin.

In school and with my peers the main division was my size. I have been a chubby girl my whole life. Kids can be hurtful, even when they don’t mean to be, and I got my share of both the purposeful and accidental slights. I wasn’t athletic, I wasn’t beautiful, I wasn’t funny. Or at least I didn’t think I was any of those things, because no one else seemed to think I was. So much of what I felt about myself was tied up in what others thought of me. The only thing I did feel I excelled in, academics, set me apart in a way that wasn’t very positive at the time. Being in gifted classes in 6th grade got me called a nerd, and with the name “Angel” meaning I got serenaded by my teachers daily, I didn’t want any more negative attention than I already had. So I quit gifted and began simply trying to blend in, because all I wanted was to stop being different.

In high school I found a small group of friends who seemed to love me, just the way I was. I blossomed a bit, and became friendly with people from many different cliques. I was well-liked, and considered smart, generous, and funny. Then I got pregnant, and everything crashed around me. I was basically forced out of my high school and into a teen parenting program at a high school in the next town, and while I credit the program with being the main reason I was able to graduate with my class, the whole social upheaval took a big toll on my self-confidence. Once again, I was different, in a REALLY big way. Walking around town at 16 with a pregnant belly doesn’t exactly do wonders for your street-cred. After I had the baby, I tried to connect with other mothers…not the teen moms I knew, because most of them were so immature and very few sincerely had their child’s best interests at heart, but adult women. I tried to find a church, but I was treated like I wore a scarlet letter for being a young, unwed mother. I tried out the mother’s group in my county, but they were all about casserole brigades and playgroups, and I was trying to finish high school while supporting my child myself. It was like two completely different spheres of existence.

I do feel I have grown into a woman more comfortable in my own skin in the 13 years since I graduated, but the size factor still comes back to haunt me, only now it is a self-imposed barrier. I know my friends don’t care how fat I am, and I know they want to be around me, just the way I am. But I don’t think they understand things that plague my mind, like, if I go to a theme park with them, will my ass fit in the roller coaster seat? Or, if we go out dancing, will I look like an idiot on the floor next to my thin friends? Or, if we go shopping together, will I be stuck perusing racks of clothes I haven’t been able to fit in since I was twelve?

But somehow, over the past fifteen months, I have come to care less and less about those fears. Because of you. See, when I read your blogs…and I do read your blogs…I don’t give a rat’s ass what you look like, or what gender you are…or whether you have kids or not…or whether we even agree on anything at all. I read because what you have to say is interesting to me. So I have to think that is why I have readers…some people think my voice is worth listening to. No matter how big the butt attached to that voice is. No matter my ethnicity. No matter my marital status. No matter anything. Somehow, being valued as a person in terms of a mind, has made me more comfortable being a person in terms of a physical being. My ass is no smaller because of being a blogger, and making blogger friends, but my hang-ups about it have definitely shrunk, which opens doors to me that I closed to myself for most of my life.

As I gear up to attend my first blogger conference, I am not thinking about whether I will stick out like a fat sore thumb. I am not thinking about how to dress to attract as little attention as possible. I am not wondering how I will get through the social anxiety without vomiting on the shoes of the bloggers I admire most. Instead, I am thinking about meeting my friends for the first time, and being able to hug them with my arms rather than words. I am thinking about hitting the dance floor and enjoying meals with them. I am thinking about learning from them, and sharing any knowledge I may have with them. I am thinking about dressing to express myself and my personal style, and having FUN.

And if I look fat? Well, I think for once, I will care about as much as everyone around me does. Which is to say, not at all. Because now, I am a part of something, and my piece of the puzzle is all about who I am, and what I choose to speak with my voice. How I am different is what makes my piece unique; what makes my voice worth listening to, though there are millions of voices speaking at the same time. All the experiences I have had that set me apart are not things to be ashamed of. They are little gems of wisdom I have gleaned, and I am so grateful you want to hear me talk about them. So, thank you all. Old friends, and new; those who I have met in the past, and those I will meet in the future, as well as those that will forever remain at a geographical distance. Your attention has helped me become someone that I have always had the potential to be, but I never believed in, until you believed in me.

*I have been meaning to do this post for a while, but I found the ultimate motivation when Lotus and Anissa ReTweet Tricia’s announcement of the Mabel’s Labels contest.*